


You Should Read More

by Karios



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-14 14:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: Books are Mozzie's preferred display of affection. The Suit is not excluded.





	You Should Read More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> I wasn't sure what you were looking for in gen fic, but I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Thanks rosefox!

Peter didn't remember exactly when the first book came. It was early days for him and Neal. Mozzie—or Havisham, as he'd known him then—wasn't yet part of his radar. He found the book wrapped in newsprint, next to his morning copy of the _Times_. At first, he suspected everything except the truth. Maybe it was a calling card, from another criminal with flair like Neal. A scarier possibility was that it was a promise of revenge from someone he'd locked up recently. He even considered that someone had simply dropped the gift out of their bag as they cut through the neighborhood.

If he'd known Havisham a little better, _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_ would've been a solid clue.

*

Books arrived more steadily after that first go-round with Keller and his bottle scam.

An Emerson anthology was propped up against his back door. Machiavelli’s _The Prince_ waited for him on his desk at the bureau, which was both an insult and a little concerning. Mozzie stuffed Einstein’s _Ideas and Opinions_ among the branches of a potted plant. It seemed like altogether too much work to go to, and Peter worried this could easily get out of hand.

Unsure how else to broach it, Peter set up a meet. A Mozzie classic, featuring back-to-back benches, and code words about birds.

“Now, just stand up—” He paused while Peter got to his feet. “—and hop on your left foot while—”

Peter sat back down. “I'm not doing that.”

“Ah, but would it have been fun if you had? Now you’ll never know.”

“I will learn to live with the disappointment somehow,” Peter assured him.

Mozzie, apparently satisfied, got down to business. “Why the rendezvous, Suit?”

“I wanted to thank you for the books, but it has to stop.”

“I do not take orders from the Man, man.”

Peter snorted. “You broke into the Federal Building. I could have you charged.”

“Let’s say someone broke into a secure, well-guarded government facility and tampered with security footage to leave you a book. Who is going to believe that?”

“No one,” agreed Peter, with an exasperated sigh. “You could just give them to me.”

“But oh, dear Suit, where's the fun in that?”

Peter couldn't come up with a good answer, and pinched the bridge of his nose against an impending headache.

Sensing their business was complete, Mozzie hopped off his bench. “Do not follow me.”

“If I value my life,” Peter finished for him. “You sound like a kung fu movie.”

“I'm a man of highly varied interests.” Mozzie headed off.

*

While in line at a hot dog cart, Peter spotted someone headed toward him. The man had a rough several-day beard, matted hair, and a tattered coat, which led Peter to the obvious conclusion.

“I don't have any spare change,” began Peter but the man shook his head.

The man looked, if anything, slightly affronted. “I'm not here to beg. Are you Agent Burke?”

Peter nodded. Before confusion could set too far in, another book was pressed into his hands. “You might want to rethink that hotdog.”

Peter glanced down at the title and groaned. Upton Sinclair’s _The Jungle_. 

*

Most of the books were delivered remarkably free of ink markings, dog-eared pages, or damage, though they’d all been well thumbed through. Each contained one adornment, a stylized H (later, an M): sometimes on a slip of paper, once on a handmade bookmark, and once added so carefully to the dedication page that it looked like it had always been there.

The one exception was Jesse Walker’s _United States History of Paranoia_ , which was coated in underlining, messages, and ‘corrections’ so thick that it would have been impossible to read if Mozzie had done them in black ink. He had used red, presumably for urgency. Peter stored it in the guest bathroom magazine rack.

It was also the only one Mozzie took back.

*

In general, Mozzie studiously avoided holidays. No books accumulated near his birthday, and nothing arrived between Thanksgiving and Christmas. However, _Love_ by Leo Buscaglia turned up too close to his anniversary to be a coincidence. He gifted it to Elizabeth, and they ended up reading it together.

As their relationship grew, so did Peter’s library. Sun Tzu’s _The Art of War_ lived next to an instruction manual on bookmaking, which in turned was wedged next to _The Descent of Man_. Just before the commutation hearing, he discovered _Nicomachean Ethics_ on the driver's seat of the Taurus, which he appreciated for more than the irony.

The last book he received was part of a trio on baby care for expectant fathers. It was hiding in plain sight among Elizabeth’s shower gifts. On the gift tag was a crude drawing, a pair of arrows with swoop marks above a tuxedo. “To Mrs. Suit,” Elizabeth translated. “That's cute.”

*

Then the world shifted and the books stopped.

When he found the warehouse, he turned the tables and sent Mozzie Paul Koudounaris’s _Momento Mori_. One look at the subtitle, and Mozzie would know Peter had gotten the message.


End file.
